


Blood Supply

by walkwithursus



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Coming In Pants, Consensual, Devotion, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Sacrifice, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkwithursus/pseuds/walkwithursus
Summary: Vampires of a certain anatomy require a fresh supply of blood toperform,for lack of a better word. Which is how Guillermo finds himself alone in Nandor’s room before the biannual vampire orgy, wringing his hands in front of him as Nandor reclines half-naked on the fur-strewn couch.
Relationships: Guillermo/Nandor the Relentless (What We Do in the Shadows TV)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 392





	Blood Supply

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vhett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vhett/gifts), [Interrobam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobam/gifts), [shocked_into_shame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shocked_into_shame/gifts).



Vampire physiology was complicated at the best of times. There were certain questions that Guillermo had developed over his years of service that just didn’t seem as though they’d ever receive an answer. Their biology was the stuff of myth and legend, running tangential to the hard scientific facts Guillermo had learned in school, and ten years on, Guillermo had learned to accept certain things without question. 

For instance, vampires of a certain anatomy required a fresh supply of blood to _perform_ , for lack of a better word. Which was how Guillermo found himself alone in Nandor’s room before the biannual vampire orgy, wringing his hands in front of him as Nandor reclined half-naked on the fur-strewn couch. 

This was far from the first time Guillermo had been in this situation. Whenever Nandor had a need for blood, be it for an orgy or a partner or two, he would invariably turn to his familiar to supply it. And after ten years, a routine had developed, an expectation of Guillermo’s willing cooperation. There was nothing coercive about it. Guillermo knew in the back of his mind that his consent was integral to this arrangement, and that he had only to say ‘no,’ and the whole thing would be called off. 

Guillermo didn’t want to say no. Not now, not ever. 

Guillermo had spent the last hour preparing his master for the event: brushing out his hair, massaging his body with oils, and dressing him in the strange leather garb Nadja had bought for him specifically for this occasion. Apart from a few leather buckles criss-crossing his chest and some sort of strange black undergarment, Nandor was a sea of skin, pale dead flesh from head to toe. It was impossible to keep his eyes completely averted, but Guillermo felt he’d done a pretty good job of not staring openly thus far, despite the invitational spread of his master’s thighs. 

“Come sit, Guillermo,” Nandor ordered, gesturing to the cushion beside him. His eyes lingered, dark and interested, as Guillermo removed his sweater and set it aside before approaching. The room was stiflingly warm, and the sweater would only get in Nandor’s way, or else be ruined by blood stains before the night was over. 

Guillermo sat down gingerly beside his master on the couch and placed his hands on his knees. 

“Why are you sitting all the way over there?” asked Nandor. 

“I’m not,” Guillermo replied. The response came out squeaky, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m not.” 

Nandor seemed to analyze his face for a moment, and Guillermo attempted to school his features. Calm, cool, collected. This, what was about to happen, was nothing new. Routine by now. It meant nothing to him. _Nothing._

Nandor frowned as he reached out to touch Guillermo's shirt collar. “You seem tense, Guillermo,” he observed, rubbing one of the clear plastic buttons thoughtfully between his thumb and forefinger. Guillermo’s heart beat furiously only inches from his hand.

“I’m fine,” Guillermo said, a little too quickly. Nandor lofted a brow. “Really. Can we just continue, please?” 

“If you’re sure,” Nandor said, slowly pulling the button through its hole with a soft _pop._ “Have you eaten today?” he inquired. 

_Pop._

“Yes.”

“Drank your water?” 

_Pop._

“ _Yes,_ ” Guillermo hissed, betraying a rush of irritation. This was far from the first time Guillermo had been used this way. He knew by now what to expect, how _exactly_ Nandor wanted him to prepare. He wasn’t a child. 

“Alright. I just want to be sure,” said Nandor, his tone placating. “I do not need you passing out on me before this very important event.” 

“I won’t,” Guillermo promised through gritted teeth. _Not again._

With half the buttons now open, Nandor stopped and spread the fabric of Guillermo’s crisp white dress shirt, exposing his throat and the uppermost part of his chest. Guillermo swallowed hard as he watched Nandor’s pupils dilate, his lips parting to reveal sharp, elongated fangs. One of Nandor’s large hands turned Guillermo’s cheek, positioning him _just so_ as he leaned in.

“Ready?” Nandor asked. The question was a formality; the undercurrent to his tone begged Guillermo not to refuse.

Guillermo closed his eyes. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. “Yes, Master,” he replied, his voice strained. 

Nandor’s beard tickled his jaw, and Guillermo heard a soft inhale next to his ear. “You are so tense tonight, Guillermo. Relax,” Nandor murmured, his lips brushing lightly across the skin of Guillermo’s throat. “Take a deep breath for me.”

Shuddering slightly, Guillermo obeyed, flooding his lungs with air. On the exhale, Nandor’s fangs sunk into him, penetrating the skin and pushing deep into his throat. Guillermo’s mouth fell open in a gasp as Nandor began to drink deeply, wrapping his arm around Guillermo’s shoulders and tugging him close.

Tears sprung to the corners of Guillermo’s eyes as his chest began to burn. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional, though Guillermo had learned to control both over the years. The thought of Nandor draining him of blood to fill his own cock, only to fuck someone else with it, used to fill him with a dark, seething envy. A decade on, the ache had lessened to something bearable, though the indignity always managed to sting at least a little. 

Nandor’s hand tightened on the back of his neck, and he wrenched Guillermo’s head further to one side, giving himself a better vantage point from which to feed. Guillermo winced through the beginning of a muscle spasm, unable to readjust for comfort in Nandor’s iron grip. 

“Ah, Master, please. My neck,” Guillermo mumbled, earning him a soft, questioning moan. Without stopping, Nandor yanked his body closer until Guillermo was sprawled haphazardly across his lap. Guillermo struggled into an upright position, his knees uncomfortably splayed on either side of Nandor’s thighs. 

The position wasn’t comfortable. Nandor’s large hands slid beneath Guillermo’s buttocks and pulled him closer, until Guillermo was firmly seated with their chests and groins pressed flush together. Nandor pushed his hips up into him, and Guillermo could feel the thick, straining shape of his master’s lengthening cock against his inner thigh. 

A breathless, pathetic little _“fuck,”_ escaped Guillermo’s lips, and he buried his face further in his master’s dark, soft hair. Guillermo didn’t dare rut back against him, though he was certain Nandor could feel his answering hardness through the thin material of his trousers. He knew better by now than to move. The few times over the years that Guillermo had been bold enough to grind his body back, Nandor had blatantly rejected him, shifting him over or else smacking Guillermo warningly on the rump, all with his mouth still firmly attached to Guillermo’s neck.

Such lapses in control were embarrassing, though nothing would ever be worse than the time Guillermo had come accidentally while Nandor fed from him. The incident was years ago now, and Guillermo doubted Nandor even remembered it, but the entire affair had left him with a sour taste in his mouth. Nandor had been very careful ever since then not to encourage him, and Guillermo had followed suit as best he could, though admittedly, he hadn’t had 758 years to master the art of self-control as Nandor had.

Guillermo’s hands drifted up and over the planes of Nandor’s chest, through the thick hair until they came to rest against his shoulders. His bare skin, soft and slightly greasy from the oils he had massaged in earlier, was gradually warming under Guillermo’s fingers. He was nearing the end, his dead veins filling with Guillermo's borrowed blood. Nandor would stop soon. 

But Nandor didn’t stop. He shifted again, a slow, upward grind of his hips, and Guillermo shivered as their hard lengths brushed through layers of fabric. Nandor’s fingers tightened on his waist, gripping and squeezing his soft flesh through his shirt, and Guillermo felt an answering heat coil tighter in his belly. This was becoming too much. No one ever touched him like this apart from Nandor, and even then the occasions were few and far between. His body was starving for it, desperate for every shove and squeeze and thrust, drinking in the low, sucking moans Nandor emitted so close to his ear. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. 

A strangled moan tore its way out of Guillermo’s throat. He was embarrassingly close now, like he'd told himself he never would be again. His body was shivering in Nandor’s arms, his hips stuttering forward of their own accord. Shame coursed through him, and he found himself torn, desperate on a physical level to come and yet dreading the possibility that he might do so once again, unwanted, in his master’s arms. Nandor bucked up into him and Guillermo saw stars. 

_Can’t you feel this? Can’t you feel how badly I want this?_ Guillermo thought wildly. _In a minute you’re going to leave to fuck all those people, when not one of them wants you half as badly as I do. You could have had me ten years ago. You could have me right now. Anything you want to do to me, I would let you. Let me hold you. Let me fuck you. Let me_ have _you._

“Please,” Guillermo choked on a sob as hot tears streamed unbidden down his cheeks. He didn’t know what he was begging for. It felt as though he’d paused on the precipice, unable to fall either forward or backward, trapped in those few agonizing microseconds that precipitated orgasm. “Master, please, I’m, nngh, I’m _so…!”_

Guillermo was interrupted by a deep, rumbling growl, starting in Nandor’s chest and working its way to his throat. A loud, sucking pop sounded near his ear as Nandor’s fangs withdrew from the puncture wounds in his neck, and Guillermo gasped as he felt a dribble of come pulse from his tip, not quite an orgasm. 

Nails dug into the fleshy part of Guillermo’s upper arms as Nandor slowly, painstakingly pushed Guillermo off of himself, and Guillermo landed awkwardly on the cushion beside him, his face half-buried in a pelt. 

“Fucking hell!” Nandor hissed, his voice deep and livid. In a burst of agility, Nandor sprang to his feet and rounded on Guillermo, towering over him with his hands on his hips. Guillermo rolled his neck to look up at his master’s face. His eyes were two black holes, all the usual glitter and mirth gone from their depths.“You know you mustn’t make such a fuss, Guillermo!” Nandor chastised. “It is very tempting to me. Not only do you taste like a virgin, you behave like one! How am I supposed to resist?”

“I’m s-... I’m s-sorry,” Guillermo panted, his chest heaving with every breath. In the heat of the moment, he hadn’t realized just how much blood Nandor had taken from him. His vision was starting to go spotty, and his tongue felt thick and numb in his mouth. 

“I could have killed you,” Nandor continued angrily. “Would you have liked that? I wouldn’t. It would have really spoiled the orgy for me.” 

“No, Master,” Guillermo breathed. Slowly, painstakingly, he pushed himself into a more comfortable sitting position. His head lolled back against the arm of the sofa, too weak to be lifted. Nandor stalked forward to place two fingers against his throat and sought out his fluttering pulse. Guillermo could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t like what he felt. His dark eyes flashed to the door and then back again, as though torn between concern and obligation.

“Stay here,” Nandor ordered at last, snatching his hand back and clenching it into a fist at his side. “Don’t go wandering around the orgy by yourself, and don’t open this door to anyone other than me. Do you understand?”

Guillermo nodded weakly. These were the same rules Nandor always supplied to him before any event where his master did not trust the vampires that would be in attendance. Nandor gave him one last scathing look before strolling out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him. Guillermo heard the key turn in the lock. 

Alone at last, Guillermo let out a low, broken moan. A small, noticeable damp patch had appeared on the front of his trousers, right underneath the very obvious tent. He hadn’t come. Not completely. He was still right there, teetering on the edge, the feel of Nandor’s hard cock thrusting up against him still branded onto every nerve in his body. With trembling fingers, Guillermo loosened his belt and undid his trousers, taking himself in hand. Whatever blood remained to him had mercifully remained in that area, and a couple of short strokes was all it took before he was coming on his own stomach, muffling his cries in one of the pelts that was draped over the back of the sofa. 

For several minutes afterward Guillermo floated in a haze of muted sound and color, unable to open his eyes. The last of his energy had bled out of him along with his orgasm, leaving him weak and thoroughly exhausted. It took a great deal of effort to eventually reach for his discarded sweater, which he used to mop up the mess he'd made before guiltily tucking himself away. 

Shame coursed through him, hot and sick, and Guillermo felt as if he could cry. It was bad enough that he'd just gotten himself off alone on Nandor’s favorite couch, when he'd also completely lost control tonight. He'd ignored the warning signs in the back of his mind that had told him Nandor should have stopped by now, that he was getting dangerously faint. If Nandor didn’t feel that he could trust himself to feed safely from his familiar, he might never do so again. Guillermo had given him a reason to doubt himself. He'd be lucky if Nandor so much as touched his hand again after this, let alone fed from him. 

Guillermo released a frustrated sigh and gazed morosely around his surroundings. He couldn’t leave the room. No matter how badly he wanted to escape and retreat to his closet under the stairs, it wasn’t safe. Not with three dozen horny vampires fucking in every available corner of the house, desperate for a little snack to come traipsing by and give their bloodless genitals a quick pick-me-up. Nandor might show restraint enough to keep him alive after feeding, but these strangers most certainly wouldn’t. He’d be ripped apart in five seconds flat, and Nandor would let it happen, too, after pulling his mouth off someone’s cock long enough to hum and haw, _‘Well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t, but if you really insist...’_

Guillermo pushed the thought away with a grimace. No. For now, he’d stay in here, in his master’s room, sitting on the sofa where Nandor had just fed on him and clutching a sweater covered in his own fluids. Unable to escape the constant reminder of what they’d just done, and what might never happen again. Exhausted both emotionally and physically, Guillermo leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, allowing the refuge of sleep to overtake him. 

The next time Guillermo opened his eyes the room was dark, the orange glow of the candles evidently having gone out. Hours seemed to have passed, and Guillermo got the feeling that if he pulled back the curtain covering the window, it would be daylight. Nandor’s coffin was closed.

“Master?” Guillermo called out softly, his voice rough with sleep. 

There was a muffled hum from within the coffin. The orgy was over, then. Nandor had returned to him, had readied himself for bed alone and allowed Guillermo to continue sleeping alongside him. Probably for protection’s sake. 

Guillermo let his head flop back down against the embroidered pillow, his chest tight. It was probably safe to return to his room now; the other vampires would have left before sunrise, but Guillermo didn’t think he had the energy to move yet. He certainly wasn’t about to ask his master to carry him. 

“Guillermo?” Nandor called a moment later, awaiting his response. He didn't sound angry, anymore, at the very least. Only tired. 

Guillermo took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pulling one of the furs over himself. “Nothing,” he replied, attempting to roll over to face the back of the couch before giving up. He may as well have been paralyzed for all the strength he had left. “Goodnight, Master.”

“Goodnight, Guillermo," Nandor said softly.

The exchange was followed by silence, and Guillermo promptly fell back asleep. Maybe they would discuss it in the evening, and maybe they wouldn't. For now, Guillermo needed to rest. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments greatly appreciated.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Disembogue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24818656) by [singing_to_shipwreck (shocked_into_shame)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shocked_into_shame/pseuds/singing_to_shipwreck)




End file.
